


His Little Star

by LittleMulattoKitten



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe Decker Finds Out, F/M, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Injured Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Other, Post-Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 03, Winged Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMulattoKitten/pseuds/LittleMulattoKitten
Summary: Once upon a time, one of God's children demanded free will. Millennia after, He's still ashamed of how the situation took place and hesitates to interfere with his son's life as a result. But when Cain almost costs Samael everything he holds dear, his father can't help but try to gently nudge a few variables into their proper places.He just didn't count on being convinced to try and reconcile with his son in the process.





	1. Shattering the Son

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is or if it'll be extended beyond this initial chapter, but it might be.

Contrary to popular belief, God never intentionally favored any of his children over the others.

And despite what some of his offspring believed, his affection for humanity didn't hold a candle to how he felt about his celestial creations.

But having feelings and expressing them properly were two skills that many never mastered even without the added struggles of omnipotence and a sinisterly abusive ex-wife.

Still, God could only shift so much of the blame away. He wasn't perfect by any means. He made mistakes.

Like favoring one of his children slightly more than the rest.

It wasn't a conscious decision. He loved all of his children equally, of that he was certain, but he _liked_ some much more than others. Having coexisted with so many being for so many millennia, God supposed it couldn't be helped that he wouldn't enjoy every single one of his offsprings’ personalities.

He may have been a miracle worker (sometimes), but that fell outside the realm of plausibility - even for him. Unfortunately, it often seemed as though reconciling with his brightest creation was also out of reach.

Samael had always stood out amongst his siblings. His wings were the brightest of all his children's. His personality had always been too big for his body, and he was nearly bursting at the seams once his sense of humor and curious nature developed.

His ex-wife often complained about what a handful Samael was, especially when compared to his more subdued twin brother Azazel.  While God had always struggled to care as strongly for Azazel as he had for Samael.

Long before Samael made the first stars for humanity, he made twinkling little lights to entertain himself. As an infant, God would often wake in Heaven to the sound of quiet, gurgling giggles from the nursery. He could still remember the very first time it happened. Azazel was sound asleep on his cot, facing the wall. Samael, on the other hand, was wide awake, surrounded by floating specks of light that danced around him.

God had watched him play and entertain himself for several moments before he was discovered by the ever-aware babe, who blessed him with the brightest smile to ever grace the lips of one of his children.

_“Da!”_

Samael had spoken early. He discovered his wings before the end of his first millennia, dozens of centuries sooner than any of his siblings. He was determined to spend time with his older siblings. He learned to fly long before God or Goddess felt was safe - and God was certain he'd done so that way his siblings couldn't leave him behind.

Azazel, as a result, spent more time with his mother than with his twin, which was another first amongst God's children.

When Samael and Azazel had two millennia to their names, Goddess became pregnant once more, and Samael became the first of his siblings to take big brothership seriously at such a young age.

While Raphael's healing powers strengthened and manifested with practice - primarily easing his mother's discomfort during pregnancies - Samael gained more control over his light.

He made two marble-sized balls of light that were cool to the touch, but Samael had done more than prevent concentrated light from being untouchable. He'd recreated his mother's light so perfectly that the two marbles changed color depending on how she felt.

They dimmed when she was unwell or sad, and before she would even know of her own suffering enough to ask for aid, God or Raphael would notice and heal what they could.

The Samael who called himself Lucifer only acknowledged his ability to make light. But he never realized that his father considered his gift a cousin to His own celestial abilities. His son was more like him than he would ever admit. As far as God was concerned, the two marbles of light his wife turned into earrings were his son's first intentional blessings. And he couldn't have been prouder of the caring, selfless nature of the act.

Once upon a time, Samael was a little angel who didn't want his mother and unborn siblings to suffer.

Now, he punished mortals who brought suffering upon the rest of their kind.

A noble but sad evolution, God supposed. Made sadder by how many of his son's actions were governed by spite rather than selfishness.

If he were braver, God would've been more obvious in his reconciliation attempts than sending Amenadiel to bless the Deckers. It wasn't that he feared his son's wrath, though he was wise enough to be wary of it, but rather that he was terrified of making things worse.

If he could undo their falling out, and Samael's Fall, he would. But his son wouldn't have as happy of a future if he did.

God watched, his chest tight with memories of Samael as an infant and child as Cain shot Chloe and Samael, despite his mortality, shielded them both with his wings. He knew the thought of Chloe being dead hurt more than the spray of bullets tearing through sinew and feathers and bone. Watching his son tremble from the shock of it all made his father murderous.

But Samael prided himself of punishing those who deserved it. So God made no move towards Cain. He watched his son drive Mazikeen's dagger through his chest, quickly sent Azrael to make sure Cain ended up in Hell, and sighed when he realized his son's suffering was far from over.

He'd given himself his “devil face” again, on accident. Because despite being one of God's truly _good_ children, Samael had always been too hard on himself, and with his guilt came his scars.

His wings were still bleeding, even though he'd tucked them out of sight of mortal eyes.

Chloe was in shock.

SWAT and the LAPD would be there any moment.

God refused to let Cain ruin everything his favorite son held dear.

Lucifer's wings were visible again, but only to Chloe, and the angry red scars from Samael's fall vanished.

God itched to heal them permanently, but part of his son wore his scars proudly. He would give Samael the choice of keeping that face, though the reminder of his mistakes made God nauseous and achy with guilt.

Chloe's shock fell away as she pieced together why and how Samael's wings ended up in their current state and whispered his chosen name, bringing him out of his shocked and anxious stupor.

_“Detective...I…”_

_“Lucifer, you're_ hurt _.”_

Samael didn't look back at his wings, assuming they were still out, and God made them invisible to Chloe when he made to ‘hide’ them.

 _“I'll be fine, Detective,”_ Samael began, but the rest of his words were interrupted by the arrival of the authorities.

Chloe took notice of the blood staining Samael's suit once the area had been deemed safe and made him sit against one of the pillars.

God vanished all broken bits of bloodied feathers and erased their existence from the mind's of everyone except for Chloe, Daniel, and Miss Lopez. The latter of the three blinked when the feather she's been examining simply vanished, and turned her gaze Heavenside.

_He's not a method actor, is he, Big Guy?_

God chuckled softly. “Nor is _Rae-Rae_ a ghost, my dear.”

Ella's eyes widened in shock, no doubt because he answered her directly, but she quickly turned towards Samael who was losing consciousness as they waited for a medical team. God frowned and Ella abandoned her post and ran to his son.

 _“Hey hey hey, Lucifer! Stay awake, buddy, okay? You can't quit on us! And after this I swear if you refer to yourself as anything other than an angel, so_ help _me_ God _.”_

Samael gave a small derisive grunt. _“I assure you, Miss Lopez, that my father wouldn't be inclined to aid you in that regard.”_

Ella's face fell. _“Guess it begs the question why he's not helping you, huh?”_ she asked.

“I want to,” God said, this time letting Chloe and Daniel hear him, since the former was nearly hyperventilating in her worry for his son. “But I doubt he would appreciate me interfering any more than I already have.”

He felt Chloe's temper spike before her expression darkened. _“I'd never watch my daughter suffer. Even if she hated me for helping. She's my_ child _! And he's yours!”_

With another bittersweet chuckle, God conceded that the detective had a point. With a brief spread of his wings, he brought time to a halt and flew down.

His wings were away by the time the humans, and his son, registered his presence. The distrusting hiss from Samael was the least he expected, but it hurt all the same.

“Samael,” he began, faltering slightly at the snarl he received. God sighed. “I know you've decided to hate your name, and fashioned yourself a new one, but I will not address you by ‘The Devil's’ name,” he said. “Not because I don't respect your choice, but because I hate the persona humans have given you and I refuse to feed into it. I will not address the maker of stars by a mythical monster's name.”

“I _am_ a-” Samael began, but his fury was too much for him in his weakened state and he gasped for breath, fighting blood loss and exhaustion. Always fighting.

“It is something of a comfort how little some parts of you have changed,” God said gently, taking a few steps nearer to the group. “You may think yourself a monster, but all I see is my Little Star.”

Pain, not from his wounds, flickered across Samael's face. “ _Don't call me that!”_ he hissed.

God raised a brow, briefly taking note of his son's injuries and the status of his spirit. His light, weakened to make him mortal around Chloe, was dimming further.

“Sam then. Or Little Star. But I cannot address you as a monster - I won't. Even if you choose to go as one.”

Samael scoffed. “And _I'm_ the proud one.”

God smiled slightly. “I don't refuse out of pride for myself. Pride for _you_ , my son, and guilt for myself. But we can speak of this when you're well. You are very hurt and the human medics will take too long to get you in an ambulance. Let me heal you at least enough for them to take up the rest.”

The silence of the humans became oppressive while Samael stared at him.

“You're _asking?”_ Samael wheezed. “For _permission?”_

God sighed at kneeled at the end of his son's outstretched legs. “I suppose I deserve your mistrust, even now. I've been rather passive about giving you cause to trust me again. But yes, son of mine, you may choose. You may not survive if you shun my help. As much as it pains me-” he glanced briefly at Chloe “-I know how much your free will means to you. Even to save you, I hesitate to simply take the choice from your hands.”

Samael swallowed hard, and the humans’ demanding he stop hesitating and accept his father's help fell on two sets of deaf ears.

“Why are you here?” his son asked.

God's eyes burned as he met his son's gaze and, without prompting, allowed his son to see his desires.

The look in Samael's eyes was not unlike a day long passed when his son had broken a wing playing a game he was too young for. Hurt and shame, misplaced then and now, distrust towards his siblings for tricking him into flying too fast and too high, was aimed at God. Eons prior, the same eyes had sought comfort and protection instead.

“Someone hurt my Little Star,” he whispered. “You've already punished the culprit. Now please let me heal you.”

His son didn't trust him. God knew that and felt the pain of it as sharply as he knew the pain in his wings was starting to affect his son.  But Samael closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly all the same, to his father’s surprise.

“I don't want to die.”

God leaned forward and pressed his palm to Samael's forehead to heal some of his wounds.

“And I don't want you to suffer. I never should have,” God said quietly.

He vanished the bullets, shards of bone, and broken feathers from the wounds in Samael's wings. He painlessly removed all the feathers that sat jaggedly or otherwise not how they ought to have - a painless preening, so to speak. He left the bullet in his arm but numbed the pain of it, and lessened his pain and fatigue overall.

“Thank you,” God said. _For letting me help. For trusting me even for just a moment._ “I will give you space now, if you wish it. But I'm watching and I want to check your wings again once you've gotten to the hospital.”

A weak nod was all he received, and Samael refused to meet his gaze.

The burning in God's eye reignited. “Call and I will come. No favors or debts owed.”

He reluctantly returned to the Silver City in an instant, before any of the humans could direct another spoken word towards him, and time resumed on Earth.

Chloe, Ella, and Daniel tried not to bombard Samael with questions, but the few they asked went unanswered. His son was pensive the entire ride to the hospital, long after his one bullet-wounded arm had been tended to.

 _“You don't have to tell me everything now,”_ was the first thing Chloe Decker told Samael once he was allowed to have visitors. _“But I need to know if you're okay. And if you're not...I'm here for you. You can talk to me, Lucifer.”_

 _“Is he making you unafraid?”_ Samael asked.

 _“No,”_ said Chloe. _“How could I be afraid of you? I know you. I'm a bit freaked out by the situation, sure, but that's mostly shock over the fact that you were never speaking in metaphors. God and heaven, hell, all of it’s real. That’s...a lot.”_

_“I've never lied to you.”_

_“I know.”_

Chloe pulled up a chair at sat at Samael's bedside. _“Are you okay?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Because of your dad?”_

Samael shrugged with his unharmed shoulder. _“I haven't seen him since…”_

_“...the fall? Did that really happen?”_

Samael chuckled, the watery sound aimed at his lap. _“Oh yes, darling. How else would I have gained my other face? It was an epic row of biblical proportions.”_

_“But you were close before that, right? He has nicknames for you. Like I do for Trixie.”_

Samael's shoulders hunched and shook. God couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. _“My birth name is almost lost in history, yet the most popular story of me was immortalized in a blood nursery rhyme.”_

Chloe's eyes widened. _“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?!”_

Samael shrugged again, only this time he forgot about his wounded arm, and winced as a result. _“I liked playing hide and seek as a child. It was a challenge to hide, especially from Him, since...well, you ve seen the bloody things now. My wings are particularly difficult to overlook. My...my father wrote that song. I presume he gave humans the melody at some point. I assumed he was mocking me by doing so.”_

_“Lucifer, I don't pretend to understand God, especially considering I didn't believe anything about the bible was real a few hours ago, but nothing about his body language struck me as mocking or disappointed earlier.”_

_“He can be a right manipulative bastard when he wants to be, Detective.”_

_“Yet he kneeled at your feet and begged you to let him heal you.”_

_“I'm still trying to understand that part.”_

_“I couldn't imagine fighting with Trixie and never making up, Lucifer. He's your_ father _. Surely he loves you.”_

 _“Did he love me when he cast me out of my home the one time I truly asked him for anything, Detective? When all I wanted was the right to make my own choices? Did any of them love me as they watched me fall, watched me_ burn! _It's been millennia and the past few years have been the most I've seen of my family since that day.”_

_“Well, if you are all immortal, then it kind of makes sense why it would take eons or whatever, right? Time passes differently for you all?”_

_“They knew where to find me. They chose not to. Not until I left Hell and lobbed off my wings and decided I had no intention of following any of His bloody rules anymore.”_

_“Sounded to me like he respected your choice to do so.”_

_“He sent Amenadiel to drag me back to hell, Detective. Amenadiel, who revived Malcolm, and you know how that turned out.”_

Chloe faltered at that and frowned. After a moment, she took Samael's hand. _“I don’t have the answers for all that. And I'm not trying to excuse whatever your father has done. But his actions today don't line up with much of that. Maybe you should ask him. He said to call for him if you needed anything.”_

Samael squeezed her hand, but fell quiet. _“I don't want to. Being disappointed and betrayed by my father once was...more than enough, thank you.”_

_“You don't want to mend things and have them fall apart again.”_

_“No. Or even hope for it.”_

God hung his head, barely aware of the tears burning down his cheeks. Tears that began when he left his son's side. And Chloe Decker, who was also crying for his son's pain, turned a withering glare to the sky.

**He'll never ask for you and I think you know that. Just because he won't swallow his pride doesn't mean you don't owe it to him to swallow yours and fix the mess you two made.**

“My son has no desire to listen to any of the things I wish to say,” he told her. “And as you can see, he's not recovered or forgiven me for forcing my will on him last time.”

**That's because you took your anger out on your son and didn't think before you acted. You've had time to think. Doing what he needs and losing your temper are very different.**

Once again, The Miracle was correct.

“You are similarly wise to my son's therapist, Miss Decker,” said God. “Would it be too much to ask that you make sure my presence is at least tolerated before I drop in? Samael is fond of his privacy and choices, as I'm sure you're aware.”

Chloe told Samael that his father wished to speak with him. And that she was struggling not to tell him to go to hell, which made his son smile. But the knowledge that he was still watching over him made Samael stiffen all the same. God's chest ached.

He tried to think back to games of hide and seek in the garden to ease the pain, but only succeeded in making it worse.

“I suppose this is fair,” he said when he landed in the hospital room. “The pain of your distrust has been a close companion of mine for some time now. It's a fair punishment and you're not even doing it out of spite. Isn't that what you've always wanted - for me to hurt as I hurt you? Revel in it, if it makes you less unhappy, son.”

Samael didn't respond. Chloe Decker gave him a hard look.

God sighed. “I'm not mocking you, Samael. If rejoicing in my torment brings you peace and a sense of justice then rejoice, for your sake and mine.”

“I don't know what I want you to feel,” Samael muttered. “I scarcely know what _I_ feel.”

God didn't move from his spot against the wall - he was as far as he could be without making it difficult for Samael to look at him if he chose.

“You have every right to be upset with me,” God said. “I've been upset with myself since the full weight of what I'd done sunk in.”

Samael scoffed. “And how long ago was that? This morning?” he sneered.

God blinked away tears as the unwanted memory of his son engulfed in flames came to the forefront of his mind. “No,” he said softly. “Your...your wings dimmed as you fell. As the fires caught you.”

Samael's eyes were blazing with _his_ light- not the light of hellfire like his son often believed - when he finally aimed a glare at his father.

“What in _my name_ did you bloody well expect to happen when you threw me down!?”

God tried to hold his gaze, but shame won out and he stared at the floor instead.

“I...I didn't realize that your wing was…” he swallowed stiffly. “I honestly expected you to fly back up and keep arguing with me. I didn't realize you'd gotten hurt in all the fighting. You were nigh indestructible by then, Samael. I...forgot that I wasn't battling a true equal in power.”

“You _never_ considered any of us equal to you!”

God forced himself to meet his son's eyes again. To let Samael see his tears and his pain. “How could I have considered you anything but my equal after all of your input, help, and insight while we worked on humanity? Who lit the universe I created, Samael? Who realized that the only way to make humans consistently stable was to give them souls as we have? Who realized the bad eggs were an inevitable design flaw and helped me design a fitting punishment for those who deserved it?”

God took a deep breath and sighed, using the back of one hand to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. “You're the only one who helped me create humanity, Samael. The others simply helped me govern it. You _know_ that.”

“Fat lot of good being the favorite did me.” The waver in Samael's voice felt like a knife. “You still let me fall.”

“I was in shock,” said God. “It's a worthless excuse, but it's true. I saw forks emerge in your path the moment I realized your wing was broken. You would be happier at the end of millenia of suffering than if I'd gone back on an ill-timed decision and saved you. Even if your happiness excluded me, I wanted you to find it.”

He looked at their silent audience member of one, then back to Samael.

“You've found a chunk of it,” he said softly. “I didn't realize I'd be directly responsible for her existence until moments before I sent you brother to bless her parents. I promise you I've had no major influence on anything else. Except for preventing her from dying a few times and thwarting your siblings’ attempts to make you return to hell.”

“Attempts they claim were _your_ will,” Samael grumbled.

God raised a brow. “Only one of my children has never felt the need to make assumptions and perform tasks I never directly asked him to do. The others have decided there's some sort of favoritism vacuum left that one of them needs to fill. There isn't. We've been estranged, but you were never gone in the sense they seemed to enjoy pretending you were. I blame your mother's influence on that particularly unhealthy bit of sibling rivalry.”

Some of the armor behind Samael's eyes broke away, replaced by more hurt. “Did she lie to me?” he asked. “She said you wanted to destroy me.”

God felt bile burn the back of his throat, briefly remembering the smug _Checkmate_ that his ex-wife had sent in his direction all those months ago.

“Is _that_ what she told you?” God whispered. “Heaven above, Samael, even at my angriest I never wanted to truly do you harm. I still ache for your little brother despite his undoing being his own fault, as far as I'm concerned, and Uriel was, admittedly, one of your more annoying siblings. Even I couldn't have gone from loving you to blatant, murderous apathy over one frustrating bout of teenage rebellion, Samael. I wanted you to learn a lesson and not the way it played out. I didn't want you _dead._ ”

“But...Mum-”

God inhaled sharply, piecing together what had happened with his ex-wife as he glanced back in time to events he hadn't watched over.

“Your mother...changed after the last of your siblings were born,” God said quietly. “I didn't recognize how drastic the changes were. For the sake of simplicity, let's say she developed a case of celestial postpartum...well psychosis really. Her personality started to warp entirely. She _pretended_ to be her old self more often than not. She started being cruel to some of your siblings when I had my back turned. When I discovered it, I started to punish her, but in ways that wouldn't draw your attention. I didn't want our fighting to affect my children more than it already was.

“She retaliated by attacking humanity. But she specifically tried to destroy _your_ contributions and she wanted you to think I'd done it. She made the first black holes. I tried to counter them by making new, rarer types of stars, but by then, you'd begun to rebel. I sent your mother hoping, forgetting that you didn't share all of my gifts - which I did often, you always knew _my_ thoughts  - you'd realize her offenses against you.”

Samael's eyes were glassy. “You...sent Mother to hell so I could get revenge? She... _She_ broke my stars? I thought-”

The words caught in his throat, and Samael chose to stare at Chloe's hand in his own instead, his fingers gently stroking hers.

God swallowed uncomfortably. “You thought I did it. To spite you.” He sighed. “I understand why. But I've never broken one of your stars.”

“Mum has.”

The mood-marbles.

“I remember,” God said. How his little angel had cried when he found the broken pieces of his stars on the kitchen floor.

Samael's shoulders began to shake again. “W-why now?” he asked. His voice trembled. “It's been _millennia._ Why _now?”_

God waited to answer until his son's pained gaze met his own, and smiled sadly.

“I guess I didn't feel like I deserve your forgiveness,” he answered. “I'm still not sure that I do. But the desire for it has started to overpower the guilt.”

He paused, pretending, for the sake of his son's pride, that he couldn't see his tears.

“Tell me, Samael,” he said softly. “Have we grown drastically different from one another, or does our _catchphrase_ still hold true?”

An exhale of a half laugh left Chloe, the first sound she’d made since God joined them on the human plane. “Like father, like son,” she murmured, giving Samael an empathetic, encouraging smile.

A broken, choked sob left God's favorite son.

He left the wall before his desire to move registered. The bed railing in his way slid out of place a moment later, and God sat at his son's side. Hope built up in his chest when Samael reached for him, the pressure suffocating, and he held his son. But he was gentler than he preferred, mindful of the pain in his son's back.

“Let me heal your wings.”

Samael nodded against his shoulder.

Again God ignored the wound on his arm, mindful of the humans who knew he had a bullet wound. But he did take away as much of Samael's pain as he could. The fatigue would have to heal naturally.

God managed to catch a few words amongst the sobs his son tried to withhold. Millennia of pent up longing, shame, hurt, and betrayal, left to fester due to God's own shame and cowardice.

It took a few moments of holding his son and listening to make out what he was trying to say.

_I never wanted to fight._

_I just wanted you to listen._

_I wasn't trying to be disrespectful._

_I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry._

“You don't owe me an apology, Samael,” he whispered. “I lost my temper. Among other things. I found out after the fact that your mother meddled as well. Made the situation worse. I think she knew hurting you was the most certain way to hurt me, second only to making _me_ hurt _you_ myself. I am the one who should be sorry. _You,_ Samael, were forgiven and my anger forgotten the moment I realized your wing was broken. I'm sorry that the shock of it all made me immobile. And I'm sorry that your happiest possible future could only be reached through a path of torment and suffering. If I could have given it to you without that, I would have…”

God held him tighter.

“I know better than anyone that _you_ of all my angels didn't deserve what you've gone through. You haven't lived a day without my love, Little Star, and you never will.”


	2. Strain for the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie, a grumpy demoness, cinnamon whiskey, artisan crafts, a story, and a necessary but trying conversation.

Chloe slipped her hand from Lucifer’s grasp not long after he fell asleep. His father -  _ God _ \- had insisted Lucifer sleep, since apparently extreme fatigue was something that could only be healed via means so complex it was all around easier on even celestial bodies to just sleep it off. She’d sat in a somewhat awkward silence with God for twenty minutes before she caught movement across the window of the room’s door and noticed Dan.

She’d nearly forgotten the phone call they had (while Lucifer was getting a bullet removed from his arm) about how worried Trixie had been when she learned one of her favorite people had gotten hurt. They agreed she could visit him after a somewhat tense conversation in which she had to remind Dan that Lucifer couldn’t possibly be the embodiment of evil if  _ God Himself _ had come down from heaven to heal him.

“I'll be right back,” she murmured as she stood.

God gave her a soft hum of acknowledgment, but seemed lost in his thoughts. She wondered if he was looking through space and time, or simply haunted by how his falling out with Lucifer had nearly resulted in his son losing his life several times now.

Watching Lucifer fall to pieces from the stress of it all had put a nigh permanent lump in her throat.

Trixie was sniffling in Dan's arms when Chloe joined them in the hall. 

“Hey, Monkey,” she said softly, opening her arms for her daughter. “It's okay, sweetheart. Lucifer's gonna be okay.”

“Who was that man?” Trixie asked as she went to her mother, her subdued voice a clear indicator of how worried she'd been. “He looks a lot like Lucifer.”

“He does, doesn't he?” Chloe agreed. “That's Lucifer's dad.”

Trixie sat up so quickly it would've been humorous if her expression weren't distraught.

“And you  _ left him?!” _ Trixie cried. “But Lucifer said his dad hates him!”

She squirmed so hard Chloe couldn't hold her, and bolted for Lucifer's door once she was on her feet.

“We can't leave him alone in there!”

“Trixie wait!” Chloe hissed, chasing after her daughter and hoping Lucifer wouldn't get woken up from his much-needed rest.

Surprisingly, Trixie had the tact to whisper-yell once she got into Lucifer's room.

“Get away from, Lucifer!”

_ Oh for the love of… _

“Ah,” God sounded amused. “You must be Beatrice. I wouldn't normally challenge such a willful young lady, but I'm keeping Samael's nightmares at bay. I'm afraid if I stray too far, I won't be able to keep his rest peaceful.”

Chloe tried to send the God of Creation an apologetic look, but he was giving Trixie his undivided, infinitely patient attention.

“Are you the one who hurt Lucifer?” Trixie demanded in another fierce whisper.

God shook his head. “Not this time, young one. But we had a rather...unfortunate disagreement a very long time ago. I presume my son has confided in you somewhat. It warms my heart to see his friends gathered to support him...and  _ protect _ him.”

“Trixie,” Chloe began gently. “Lucifer's relationship with his dad is...complicated. But his father isn't here to hurt him.”

Trixie's posture still radiated distrust, but her raised hackles settled slightly. “Are you  _ really _ God?” she asked.

“I'm afraid I am,” he replied. “You've asked me to keep your mother safe a few times, if I recall.”

“And Lucifer,” Trixie said pointedly.

God smiled slightly. “And my son, yes. I keep him safe when I can, but it's difficult to do so without taking away his freedom to choose his own path.”

Trixie glanced back at Chloe, uncertainty swimming in her eyes, before she turned back to God. “So you're not mad at each other anymore?”

God chuckled. “I imagine Samael is still upset with me, but I haven't been angry with him for thousands of years.”

“Do you love him again?”

God's expression crumbled, sadness darkening his gaze. “I never stopped loving my son, Beatrice. I just...made him feel like I had. I'm trying to fix that now.”

“Have you missed him?”

“Trixie,” Chloe sighed. “Enough, Monkey.”

God shared a weighted look with the ten year old before him. “Every single day,” he answered. “Everything at home reminds me of him in some way.”

Trixie finally softened, nodding sagely. “I think he missed you too. But he didn't want to say so.”

“The spawns omnipotence rivals yours.”

They all turned towards the bed to find Lucifer's eyes cracked open. He looked slightly more rested, but the day's events had obviously taken their toll. He cracked a small smile at Trixie, in part, Chloe thought, to avoid his father's gaze.

“Hello, Child.”

“Lucifer!” She ran up to his bedside, unbothered by her proximity to God, and Chloe sighed in exasperation. “Are you okay?”

Only  _ her  _ child would disregard God's personal space so she could check on ‘Satan’.

“It's a nonsense moniker, I agree,” God mused, standing to give Trixie and Lucifer some privacy. “Forgive my eavesdropping. I've been listening to the thoughts of all humans coming near this room since Samael arrived. Just in case.”

“Don't worry about it,” Chloe said. Honestly, of all the things she could get her panties in a twist over, God tuning into her thoughts felt like a stupid battle to pick anyway. “So...did the whole garden thing really happen?”

“With Eve?” God clarified. “Yes, but that wasn't Samael. He has a fraternal twin - Azazel. I've...come to realize that Azazel and his mother were the true leaders of Samael's ‘rebellion’. They manipulated him to the forefront, likely so he would take the fall for them. It pains me that they succeeded.”

“What  _ did _ Lucifer do?” she asked, watching Trixie frown and gently kiss the bandage on Lucifer's arm, obviously catching him off guard.

He even returned her gentle hug and let her lay against him a while.

“Are your wings okay?” Chloe heard her ask. Lucifer's reply was too soft to catch.

“He learned to think for himself on matters of importance,” God said quietly. “It was something I taught him, really. Or perhaps he inherited it. Either way, he couldn't have helped me sculpt humanity if I'd held his hand the whole time. That's why I never asked for help. Samael was the first visionary amongst my offspring…the first to share his own ideas with me on the project at the time.”

“Which made him a target for the selfish and bitter members of your family,” Chloe guessed.

“Indeed.”

Trixie released Lucifer, allowing him to gingerly sit up.

God frowned, worried. “Samael…you need your rest.”

Lucifer took a few labored breaths, one hand held out to silence his father. Then he spread his wings.

It took Chloe a moment to realize God had paused time again. Leaving the room's inhabitants unfrozen.

Two tears slid down Lucifer's cheeks as he winced. His wings looked fully healed from what Chloe could see, though.

“Sore?” God asked gently.

Lucifer sighed. “It's fine.”

“Is it truly or are you suffering unnecessarily?” God parried.

Trixie's quiet awe turned into worry. “Can he make your wings better?” she asked.

Lucifer nodded.

“Then why won't you let him help?”

His wings drooped. “Old habits, I think...but perhaps you raise a fair point, Beatrice…”

He swallowed audibly, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

God gave him a sympathetic smile. “May I?”

One wing twitched in God’s direction. He took a few steps forward and gently soothed some of the feathers back into place as he fed light into them. A tremble went through both wings as the tension left them, and God barely caught Samael’s muttered thanks.

“You’re welcome,” he said warmly. “It’s hardly a chore, but I’d commit to the effort if it were.”

“See?” Trixie whispered to Lucifer, beaming. “I don’t think he was lying. Mommy says she’ll always love me no matter what, even if I do something bad.”

Lucifer gently reached out to pat Trixie on the head, but didn’t seem capable of offering a response.

Chloe noticed how God seemed reluctant to release Lucifer’s wing, making her wonder how the extra appendages influenced things like personal space and affection for celestials. She imagined a child-sized Lucifer curled against his father on a cloud and tried to shake the image away before Lucifer noticed.

She forgot about God’s mind reading until she noticed his expression had switched from closed off to somewhat amused.

“If a day ever comes where I can tease him again, I'd be happy to give you a peek into the past. One of my younger daughters reminds me of yours, actually. Azrael.”

“The angel of death?” Chloe asked.

God nodded. “Collector of souls, really. It was Samael's duty first, but her powers were better suited for the task.”

Chloe decided that she needed to do some research, that way she could fact check the celestials and make sense of everything.

She was pulled out of her strategizing when she accidentally tuned in to a quiet conversation between Lucifer and her daughter.

“...I'd be in your debt, Beatrice, if you could inform Mazikeen that my father's presence is peaceful. If he stays on this plane of existence overnight, I'd rather someone help him get settled in my penthouse and lock the elevator. But I think your mother could use some rest as well - be sure to mention that. You know how Maze is, Hell's best demoness won't be looking forward to this task.”

Trixie nodded with eager understanding. “I'll tell her that I gave him a talking to already and that she has to be nice.”

Lucifer's lips twitched. “That should do nicely, Spawn. And as promised, when I'm free from this healthcare hell, you'll receive your money and your chocolate cake.”

Beaming, Trixie held out a hand and they shook on it. Chloe couldn’t even muster up some minor annoyance at Lucifer’s collusion. Surely being taught how to bargain by God’s craftiest son would only open doors in Trixie’s future...

* * *

 

God followed his son’s loyal demon through the night club he’d only seen from above, a faint smile gracing his features as he took in the space. The ambient lighting reminded him of the first galaxies he ever made with his son, but his impatient guide didn’t allow him more than a moment of admiration before she snapped at  _ His Holy Creation-ness _ to hurry up.

Samael’s penthouse was even more fitting. The bright, warm lighting from the elevator and the wall behind the bar were a blatant nod to cooler hues of starlight, perhaps even Sol itself. The openness of the space gave him a similar sense of deja vu. The balcony and jacuzzi made his chest ache. He’d noticed before, but standing in his son’s chosen home made it much more obvious that those two features were a blatant recreation of his living space and stomping grounds in heaven.

The historical aspects were also a nice touch, nodding to his previous visits to the human realm. 

“I don’t know why he’s trusting you,” the demon said coldly from the entryway. “But God or not, betray him again and I put an end to you. And...don’t touch the top shelf stuff. Last time I checked, he didn’t like you enough for that degree of hospitality.”

Trying to hide his amusement for the sake of avoiding a surely unavoidable conflict, God said, “Last time either of us checked, my son didn’t ‘like me enough’ to offer me the use of his guest room. And I think I mentioned this in the car, but I’m not here to antagonize Samael.”

“His name is  _ Lucifer _ ,” she snapped. “And whatever. This isn’t really my problem anyway. He’s hurt. I’m doing him a favor because he used Decker’s kid to talk me into this shit.”

“I appreciate you doing my son a favor,” God said carefully, turning to face Mazikeen. “Although I do wonder if you realize that your freedom is a gift from my son, not some right you’ve claimed for yourself or manipulated out of him… I’d think you’d have realized how benevolent your master is. He’s certainly treated you better about demanding your freedom - not to mention completely disregarding his _trust_ for your own selfish gains - than myself or my other children would have been.”

The hate burning in Mazikeen’s eyes seemed too overwhelming, preventing her from forming an immediate comeback. Her only response was the hand that twitched towards her blades.  

God’s smile cooled the room. “By all means, don’t torment yourself a moment longer in my presence, dear girl. My eldest will soon bring me a cell phone, though I don’t think I need it, and I can certainly call on any of my children if I have need of anything.”

A slight snarl came from the demon. “I’m watching you.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you are. Let me know how well that pans out without omnipotent foresight.”

She glared at him until the elevator doors cut off her line of sight.

God sighed. Truth be told, he expected that interaction to go much worse. 

He moved towards the bar, ignoring Mazikeen’s threat about the top shelf since his son had specifically told him that he’d prefer the half-empty bottle resting ‘on high’. Single malt.

God poured himself 3 fingers to sip and found the burn as pleasant as Samael promised. The bite of cinnamon left a biting warmth behind as well that he quite enjoyed, but it wasn’t too sweet.

He’d just started to relax sometime later when a timid voice floated into his awareness.

_...Dad? _

He smiled, despite the immediate pang of worry.

“Everything alright, Samael?”

_ Well, yes, I’m fine. Still not pleased about the humans holding me hostage here overnight, of course, but I was...well I was checking on you. _

God paused mid-sip, caught off guard. “Whatever for, Little Star?” he asked. “We agreed I’d stay at your penthouse while I remain on the mortal plane.”

He didn’t bother mentioning that neither he nor his son was particularly interested in being in separate realms of existence, despite God’s ability to travel to and from at will. Especially since Samael could only feel his presence while they occupied the same realm.

God didn’t want to call it separation anxiety, despite being fully aware that there was no other accurate terminology for their current plight.

_ Maze stopped by before heading home with Chloe and the child. She was quite miffed. _

God snorted to himself. “We had a discussion that was likely much more unpleasant for her than it was for me.”

_ Antagonizing Hell’s finest? _

“More like reminding your right hand that I’ve seen every choice she’s ever made and that she doesn’t actually _deserve_ your continued favor and leniency after the series of choices she's made these last few years.”

_...Oh. I see… _

“I’m not going to smite your little demon just for some pointless threats, Samael. I know you’re fond of her. You helped create her.”

_ My toes aren’t trodden on. I’m...just surprised. _

God hummed thoughtfully and sipped his scotch. “You’ve spent an awfully long time thinking I was apathetic to your existence, Little Star. You can speak freely. You’re surprised I care enough to speak my mind.”

_ I don’t want to whinge. But, yes. I was. _

He smiled against his glass. “Mind your pride, Little Star. I think in this case, it’s only serving to prevent you from hearing things you long to be true.”

Unsurprisingly, Samael immediately changed the subject.

_ You’re settled in then? Did you try the scotch? _

“I am and I’m on my second glass. It’s quite good. It’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed human creations. They’re quite the artisans when it comes to their sins, aren’t they?”

_ You’d like wine tastings, I think. Alcohol is something of an art form for those who can afford the finer things. _

“You’ll have to guide me. What about bread and cheese? Are those still artisan crafts?”

He talked with his son for hours, casually enjoying drink recommendations and eventually moving to the balcony so he could enjoy the limited view of the stars. It was easier to talk to Samael this way, to God’s surprise. His son was much more comfortable just...chatting when they weren’t face to face.

Though it made sense. God was overwhelmed with guilt and memories when they were in the same room together, or any time he laid eyes on his Light Bringer. (A silly name, actually given to him by humans due to the light emitted from his wings. Light  _ Maker _ was the original moniker for his abilities, though God still quite preferred Little Star. He wondered if his son realized how similar the nickname sounded compared to his chosen mortal name.)

The moon was quite high when Samael’s responses began to slow, his thoughts growing sluggish and jumbled.

“Sleep, Samael,” God said gently. “You need rest, especially if you have to go to the police station with your detective tomorrow after your release… I’m not going anywhere.”

_ I’m...not tired enough to fall asleep. Not yet.  _

God made a quiet, disbelieving noise. “I imagine you’re too old for a bedtime story to send you off, as well.”

Samael’s indignance was louder than any audible scoff.  _ Of course I am. _

A brief silence fell between them, heavy, but comfortable.

God felt his eyes prickle, knew his son’s were doing the same, and took a deep breath as he finished off the amber liquid in his glass.

“Once upon a time, a baby boy was born…”

* * *

 

He wasn’t the first baby boy born to the family, nor the last. He wasn’t even born alone. He had a brother, born moments after him, who’s light wasn’t nearly so bright.

In fact, none of God’s children had even been born as bright as his newest son.

He loved them both, as he loved their older brothers and sister, and as he would love those who would come after them. His little angels were all unique in their own way, all beautiful.

This one, though, the first twin born from this particular pregnancy, was the first of his children to look like him.

He had the same dark hair, bright, fiery eyes, and he glowed brighter than all of his siblings. 

He was born disgruntled as if he hadn’t enjoyed being born any more than his mother had enjoyed giving birth, but like most parents, God felt compelled to soothe the child in his arms, and Goddess did the same with their other son.

Only one of the newborns stopped crying long before falling asleep.

God swore the baby in his arms, with gentle light coming off his skin, smiled at him on purpose. 

All was well.

The babies grew. Before the end of their first millennia, the brightest of the twins had sprouted his wings - making him the youngest, the  _ only _ , of God’s children to ever  _ crawl _ with wings. 

The baby’s older brothers and siblings were so proud of him. They called him  _ cherub _ \- which was heaven-speak for the soft, downy feathers that made up the undercoat of their wings.

Heaven glowed just a little brighter every time the baby smiled.

From a young age, he preferred his father’s company. Like all babies, he loved his mother as well, and had his fair share of “Mummy’s Boy” moments, but when he couldn’t sleep, he wanted his father. When he was unwell, he wanted his father. When he got hurt playing, he’d cry for his father.

And his twin did the opposite.

Their parents found it amusing at the time. In the early days, neither was jealous of being preferred by one twin as opposed to the other.

There was balance. There was peace.

The babies grew into toddlers and the Goddess conceived again. The brighter son learned to make stars and began to follow his father everywhere he could.

He learned to fly and his siblings, as children do, were jealous of the little one getting so much attention. So instead of taking care of their little brother when they went out to play, they planned to trick him instead, and finally prove to their father that he wasn’t any better than they were after all.

Children don’t always think things through as well as they should. 

They planned a race through the forests of heaven, the very forests where the sapling for the Tree of Eden came from, that was full of twists and turns. Each angel was to race one at a time, and the two eldest - Amenadiel and Michael - promised to fly up and fetch golden apples for the winner, since the others were too young to get their own.

Michael, whose powers were underdeveloped at the time, could only consciously induce a sense of fear in people when he concentrated. Amenadiel could inconsistently freeze people or time, but not both together.

When it was their little brother’s turn, they reminded him to fly as fast as he possibly could, then Michael made him panic and Amenadiel slowed him down at random.

It wasn’t long before he clipped a wing and was knocked out of the sky. 

The older siblings didn’t even think to feign innocence, they were so proud of their ‘accomplishment’.

Their father was less so.

Much  _ much  _ less so.

He healed his son’s broken wing, scolded all of the children old enough to understand where they went wrong and punished them accordingly. 

In hindsight, keeping his youngest son with him for the rest of the day may not have been the wisest course of action long-term, but his baby had been hurt and needed cheering up. 

He would do anything to keep his children happy, but he couldn’t deny that the compulsion and protectiveness was a little stronger with his youngest son, even after many more of his siblings had been born. The son that looked like him, glowed like him and was especially attached to him remained glued to his side.

His father would do anything to keep him happy and safe. 

* * *

“No matter what,” God finished quietly. 

He could feel Samael on the edges of sleep, his mirrored heartache, and decided that they could pick up this story another time.

“Sleep, Little Star, I’ll be here in the morning.”

_ Do you swear it? _

God smiled wryly. “Do you desire me to be here in the morning?”

_ Yes. _

“Then you have my word, Sammy.”

God enjoyed the ambiance of L.A. nightlife while he waited for Samael to drift off. Then he took a few spare minutes to bathe in the not-silence before reaching out to some of his children.

Azrael. Gabriel. Michael. Raphael. Amenadiel.

Four of his children landed along the balcony, but the flutter of wings behind him assured God that Amenadiel was present as well.

“Father-” his eldest began.

“Relax, my son,” said God. “I’m not here to harm your brother nor scold any of you. I’m no more upset with any of you than I am upset with Samael for building himself a life here.”

When worry still graced his children’s features, he added, “I really don’t care that your brother left hell, you know.”

“You...don’t?” asked Azrael. “But...Luce- Sam thinks you do.”

God nodded. “It’s a long story, but your brother and I have spoken. I dare hope we’ve started to mend things, even… the point is, your brother now knows my feelings on the matter. Unfortunately, he was hurt protecting a human friend of his, and he’s still in a mortal hospital. He’s to be released tomorrow morning.”

Some of his children shared glances as Amenadiel joined them outside. “Father,” he began. “Why are we here?”

God took a deep breath. “I’ve realized that my own cowardice and refusal to face certain painful truths has caused our entire family harm, but Samael has taken the brunt of that pain and shouldered it on his own for millennia. I’d like to rectify this issue. To try and restore our family to what it once was, if possible. Samael was always closest to the group of you. Seems silly to let you all continue to avoid him unnecessarily.”

Azrael’s expression brightened the most at the news, but God was surprised to see Michael’s tighten. He shot his son a concerned look.

“Who harmed Samael?” he asked gruffly. “And how?”

“Cain,” God answered. “Your brother is rendered...partly mortal under certain Earthly circumstances. Cain took advantage of those circumstances to threaten someone your brother cares about, then tried to kill your brother. Cain’s been punished.”

Michael’s fist clenched. “By whom?”

“Samael killed him. I made sure he went to hell. I may fly down there myself and tweak his arrangements personally once your brother has come to terms with the shift in our relationship,” God said. “He's adjusting better than I hoped, but…”

“He has trust issues,” Azrael chimed hesitantly. “I haven't been down here to see him personally, but I checked in on him some time ago. Amenadiel was trying to bribe him back to hell. He  _ really _ didn't trust him.”

God nodded solemnly. “Amenadiel took it upon himself to ‘save me the trouble’ of getting your brother back to hell. What he neglected to ask was…” he paused, a pained, bittersweet smile gently gracing his lips, “was whether or not that's what I  _ desired. _ It wasn't.”

God shook the melancholy haze from his mind. “I'm just trying to make sure that the members of this family most likely to listen and keep their heads understand what's going on. He may not ask for it or even realize he needs it, but if I convince him to visit home for a spell, he'll need a support system while your other siblings come to terms with things.”

Raphael cleared his throat. “Would Samael accept my help if I offered to ease some of his mental sufferings? Minds are more complicated than bodies, but I could take the edge off?”

God shook his head. “It pains me to say, but this pain may run too deep for any of us to attempt to heal. I haven't tried, aside from keeping nightmares at bay. Your brother needs to experience the full weight and relief of healing on his own if he's going to move past this - and so do I.”

Michael and Raphael shared a near-identical worried glance, as God's first set of twins often did when worrying for their younger siblings. Gabriel was pensive, silently standing beside his sister while Azrael sniffled quietly.

“Have you anything to say, loves?” God asked them, suddenly worried that he'd misjudged - that they weren't ready to forgive their brother for misdeeds that weren't truly his own.

Gabriel swallowed before he spoke. “It was Mom and Azazel, wasn't it?”

His other siblings turned towards him, fearing, God hoped, that it was true and realizing what that meant for Samael.

“They tricked him, didn't they?” Gabriel continued, his voice shaking. 

“Yes,” God said softly, his throat tight. “Yes, I believe they did. Successfully too, since Samael ended up taking the brunt of the punishment.”

Michael's eyes burned a shade of blue Samael had dubbed ‘prelude to supernova’ eons ago.

“Sammy wasn't the real frontrunner?!” he exclaimed. “He was misled! He's a  _ victim _ , Father! All this time the victim's been getting punished in place of the truly guilty?!”

The brightness of Michael's anger fizzled out into despair faster than God had ever seen, and his second son dropped to his knees.

“Jophiel thought Sammy was safe...that Mum wouldn't dare target him. How'd she manage it so perfectly?”

Raphael extended a wing to his twin in comfort. “We will fix this and welcome Samael home. We owe him no less than that, except perhaps our patience. Trust takes much time to heal.”

“Can I go see him?” Azrael asked in a small voice. “When he wakes up?”

God’s features softened. “Of course, my winter star, although I cannot promise your brother will be pleased to see any of you at the moment. He’s...slowly getting used to my presence. Learning of his mother’s deceit...broke a part of him. He’s been rather subdued, dare I say  _ timid _ since. I’m worried for him.”

“What would you like us to do, Father?” Amenadiel asked.

God thought for several moments. “Do as your brother would have you do,” he decided. “Whatever you wish. Except I’m going to set some ground rules - any further acts that intentionally bring any manner or harm towards your brother or those he holds dear will be punished  _ severely _ .”

“Can I help?” Michael asked darkly. “If anyone’s foolish enough to dare?”

God shrugged. “If Samael doesn’t desire the honors, certainly.”

His second eldest nodded, satisfied, and stood. Raphael’s wing stayed around his twin and one hand came to rest on his shoulder.

Gabriel was pensive and clearly as upset as the rest of his siblings, which God hated to witness. It was unavoidable, he knew, but it hurt him nonetheless.

“You all need time to consider what I’ve told you,” he said. “Please, go give yourselves time to process.”

Amenadiel flew away first. Then Michael and Raphael. Gabriel hesitated but eventually left with a sigh.

Azrael lingered, unshed tears lining her empty gaze.

“Rae,” he said gently. “Come here, my love.”

He stood and wrapped his arms around her as she wept for her brother. 

“Does he hate us all?” she asked.

“Samael could never hate you,” he said. “He may be cross for some time, but Samael would do anything for you before this mess, Azrael. He’s likely missed you, missed many of us, and has been too hurt to admit it to himself.”

It was several minutes before Azrael pulled back and wiped her face with her hands.

“We’ll fix things,” she said with watery conviction. “We have to.”

God watched her fly away, then went back inside and poured himself another glass of cinnamon scotch.

Dawn was teasingly staining the sky, just barely lightening the deep blue hues, when he reclaimed his seat on the balcony. He got the sense that the day ahead would be a long one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm affectionately referring to this fic as my "word vomit" project because I'm literally winging (**half-assed finger guns**) this whole thing. I only kinda sorta know where it's going? Or what's happening? Aside from the fact that this is a journey of healing for Samifer (Lucael?) - which obviously means there's more that needs to play out.
> 
> We'll see I guess? I'm looking forward to expanding more of the flashbacks/memories God dwelled on in the first part.  
> Not to toot my own horn - but I'm digging my headcanon for why Azrael and Samael wound up so close. I wish it was canon.


	3. Struggling to Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams. Donuts. A much-needed nap. Orange chicken. And a healthy dose of constructive skepticism.

Lucifer knew he wasn't awake.

For starters, he was staring at the courtyard of his childhood home in Heaven. And second, he was looking at several of his siblings - and they were all children.

He wasn't present, however. Not as an adult nor a child.

But a barely toddling-aged Azrael was sat against the fountain, minding the rule about the littlest ones getting near the water when the adults weren't around. Amenadiel and Michael were arguing over a game of marbles, the very same set of marbles Lucifer had helped his father make for their games by the looks of things, and Jophiel was trying to mediate.

Gabriel was laying on the ground besides Azrael, cloud gazing. He didn't notice when a vicious shudder wracked her frame.

But Lucifer recognized her plight instantly.

_ “Uh oh,”  _ she whimpered, standing despite the budding tremors.  _ “Sammy-el? Where's Sammy-el?” _

_ “With father, Rae,”  _ Amenadiel answered absently.

_ “As usual,” _ Michael mumbled.

Jophiel glared at them both.  _ “Don't be jealous. Dad asked for his help. You should be proud of Sammy's talents.” _

_ “Quoting Dad much?”  _ Michael countered.

And the arguing began, drawing their attention farther away from their panic ridden little sister.

_ “R-raph-el!”  _ Azrael cried.  _ “Help!” _

Raphael landed near Gabriel, who had finally been drawn out of the clouds.

“What's wrong, Azzie?” he asked, ignoring the bickering siblings.

Raphael spared them a tired glance, but shook his head.  _ “You're not hurt, Azrael, what's wrong?” _

_ “Sammy-el!” _ she insisted.  _ “Need Sammy-el!” _

Raphael frowned.  _ “Sam and Dad are at the observatory, Rae. I don't know when they'll be back, but you're too little to be up there alone.” _

_ “Peaz! Need Sammy, need Sammy!” _

Raphael felt terrible, but he held firm.  _ “Sorry, Rae, but I can't fly you up there. What if you got lost in the universe? We'd miss you. And Sam and Dad would never forgive me. Just wait down here. Go see mom.” _

_ “No!” _ Jophiel shouted.  _ “No, I...I'll walk her to the observatory. And stay with her. These two idiots won't stop fighting anyway.” _

Raphael frowned again.  _ “If you're certain, Jo.” _

_ “We'll be careful. Besides, Rae is a good girl. She won't try to jump after them.” _

For her fifteen millennia, Jophiel had always been the wisest of them. She picked up a trembling Azrael and held her close, then turned to Gabriel.

_ “What about you, little brother? Are you coming?” _

Gabriel shook his head and looked to Raphael.  _ “Can I go with you?” _

Raphael shrugged.  _ “Sure. Just don't startle the animals. Dad told me to find anything that was hurt and practice healing.” _

Gabriel nodded.  _ “I'll be quiet,” _ he said, his tone surprisingly ironic for a four-millennia-old.

Raphael shared a smirk with him, picked him up, and flew off.

Jophiel turned to her two older brothers, keenly aware that only a few centuries separated them.  _ “Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.” _

She flew away before either could answer.

Azrael's entire body was shaking when they landed outside the observatory. Jophiel ran up the stairs as carefully as she could, sending her thoughts towards her father.

Thankfully, Samael had just landed back in the main room by the time she reached the top steps. His eyes burned with starlight and his wings were burning off stardust, making them glow a variety of bright colors. 

Sometimes Jophiel forgot he was only five. He carried himself like their father so often that he seemed much older. Especially when Azrael was involved.

Lucifer watched himself reach for Azrael and tuck her against his chest as his younger self sat on the marble floor. He wrapped his wings around his baby sister and let his light seep into her.

Azrael curled into him and whimpered until her shivered finally ceased enough for her to talk.

_ “Sammy-el…” _

Samael offered his sister a comforting smile. Unbeknownst to the pair, their father landed a few feet away, having flown out of the mostly dark night sky.

_ “Azzie-Rae,” _ Samael returned, leaning down to bump his nose against Azrael’s. He managed to get a little giggle from her, but it faded quickly. She snuggled closer to him.

_ “Sammy-el go far'way?” _ she asked.

Samael's smile was apologetic. _ “Sort of, Azzie. Dad didn't want to make a star too close to home, or where he plans on putting the humans, just in case.”  _  He glanced toward his elder sister.  _ “Did she call for me?” _

Jophiel nodded.  _ “Aloud mostly.” _

_ “It may have to do with us being in another realm, Samael,” _ God chimed.  _ “And you were using your powers quite extensively.” _

_ “Yeah…”  _ Samael agreed, frowning. _ “Sorry, Azzie. I didn't know I wouldn't hear you.” _

Azrael hugged him tighter.  _ “All better.” _

God crouched down to run a hand over Azrael's hair.  _ “One day we'll understand your cold spells, Rae. Until then, I heard your sister. So if you know Samael and I are off somewhere, call for me, alright?” _

She nodded against Samael's shoulder.

Jophiel offered her father a full explanation of the event, from the time Azrael first spoke up to reaching the top of the observatory stairs. But she was mindful of her phrasing over some parts. 

_ “You and Sammy are the only ones whose light actually helps her,” _ she said slowly.  _ “So it seemed pointless to let Raph take her to Mum.” _

Lucifer noticed the approving, grateful expression on his father's face. Something his younger self had never noticed since he was too busy cheering up Azrael.

_ “You're a good girl, Jophie. Thank you for bringing your sister here. I agree, even with the wait, she's much happier now than she may have been.” _

Jophiel’s smile was brittle.

Lucifer woke up with burning eyes and a tightness in his chest.

He wanted to immediately blame the dream on his father, but he knew better. Visions from his father were rarely so clear. His doubt of the dream's origins were only fueled by the fact that it had been millennia since Lucifer had been able to glance through time.

He was never as proficient as his father. In fact he was often limited to reviewing events he'd already experienced, as the dream had been, but it still shook him to the core.

His eldest sister knew of their mother's odd behavior. She'd jumped in to spare Azrael from their mother's ‘care’.

Jophiel knew. And if his gut feeling was correct, then she knew because she'd been on the receiving end.

Suddenly Lucifer wished he hadn't gotten in Uriel's way.

He blinked a few times and tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry.

“Water?” a somewhat familiar voice asked.

He glanced toward the source, spotting the figure in the far corner for the first time. His eyes widened.

She broke eye contact, shuffling uncomfortably towards the styrofoam cups and pitcher by his bedside. She poured him a cup of water and offered him a bittersweet smile.

“Hey, Samael. Or, I guess you prefer Lucifer now, huh?”

“Azzie Rae,” he managed. “I thought Dad healed me up?” 

“He did. I'm not here to collect your soul or anything,” she said, shuffling awkwardly at his bedside.

He raised a brow at her and made a grand hand gesture towards the spot beside him. She was just as awkward sitting, but she fidgeted less, at least.

“Um,” she began. “D-dad...called a few of us down last night.”

Lucifer blinked. “After I fell asleep, surely,” he muttered to himself, steadfastly ignoring his memories from the night before. He didn't have the energy to dissect them… he should call Linda today, in fact. She'd help him.

“Yeah,” Azrael said. “He was at your place. Looked really tired. And sad… He uh, gave us a condensed version of what was going on. And told us what  _ really _ happened when you...well it wasn't really you, was it? But the whole...rebellion mess.”

Lucifer's skin prickled with anxiety.  

Azrael started picking at the frayed edges of her skirt. “Um…”

He waited, his own patience surprising him a tad, but then he never had coped well when Azrael was upset - even if he was going insane internally, he still wanted to give her time to sort her thoughts.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

But he didn’t expect tears to fill her eyes or her lips to twitch due to the strain of controlling her expression.

“D-dad said you might not be ready to talk to us,” she began, her voice strained. “But…”

Lucifer felt his expression pinch with worry and confusion. Surely she wasn’t upset that one little bullet managed to go through his wings  _ and _ his arm? The cut from Maze’s blade was already healed. He wasn’t dying…

“I just,” Azrael began again, “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Lucifer blinked, his dream-addled brain finally starting to catch up with the situation. Azrael was guilt-ridden and yet she was the first of his siblings to reach out. It seemed his sister hadn’t changed much. She always was the first one to chase after him if he was angry or upset, always more concerned with making sure he was okay, or fixing things if he happened to be cross with her - though that was particularly rare.

She came to him to apologize. To  _ confess _ her wrongdoings and, he assumed, be judged to a degree. 

“Sorry for what, exactly?” he asked her. For a moment he panicked, thinking something had happened to the detective or the spawn, but Azrael’s behavior made him think this was a personal matter. 

And...a part of him wanted to believe -  _ hoped _ \- that his father wouldn’t let that particular worst-case scenario happen after everything else the last few days had held.

“For not visiting,” Azrael began with a sniff. “For not  _ thinking _ and realizing that Dad never actually told any of us that we couldn’t see you. For not having the stones to fight back on a rule I  _ assumed _ was in place that I fucking  _ hated _ . Just...I’m so sorry, Sam. And I needed to tell you since I know now. I didn’t want to wait and let you think I wasn’t thinking about you.”

“Well then,” Lucifer began, feeling as far out of his element as he ever had when Azrael came to him upset. “Message delivered, Gabriel Two. I can only assume you think I’m angry or inclined to shout at you. Surprisingly I’m...not. That is to say, yes I  _ was _ quite upset with everyone, especially in the beginning. Now…”

He trailed off. He really needed to talk to Linda, she could help him organize his thoughts. 

“I don’t...have the energy to be upset,” he said slowly. “I’ve certainly not been pleased all this time but...I suppose I’m trying to swallow my pride a bit.”

Azrael gave him a glassy, doe-eyed look that made him scowl. 

“Dad’s sake, you’ve hardly changed have you? Once a manipulative little devil, always one.”

Azrael wiped her eyes and grinned at him. “Shut up, prat. I’m just...happy you’re talking to me.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Yes well apparently only one of our parents is a manipulative, lying waste of light, and I’d rather be an apple very far from that tree if it’s all the same to you.”

Azrael reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly. “I missed you,” she told him.

He was saved from answering by a hesitant knock on the door.

“Ah, Miss Lopez, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, belatedly noticing the tension between Ella and his sister.

Azrael looked sheepish. “Uh, I can explain?”

Ella shook herself, readjusting the box balanced in one hand and keeping a careful hold on the coffees in her other arm. “No need. Big guy mentioned it when I got to the crime scene. Well, he said you’re not a ghost. I put the rest together myself.”

She turned towards Lucifer with a bright smile. “I woke up to a post-it note this morning telling me you were being released. I thought Rae-Rae left it at first, but now I’m not sure. Either way - I was told you might benefit from some company and a decent breakfast.”

Azrael grabbed the coffees from her so she could set the rest of her things down. Ella thanked her, spun the box around, and lifted the lid with a game show host’s flourish.

“Ta-da!  _ Donuts! _ ”

Lucifer offered her his most charming smile and plucked a chocolate donut for himself. “You shouldn’t have, Miss Lopez.”

Ella wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh hush. There’s not a ton for me to do in the lab. The whole Pierce case is really odd and all. I think it’s gonna be passed off to the feds. And besides, I wanted to check on you.”

Azrael started to look uncomfortable again, so Lucifer gestured between the two women with his donut. “What’s this then?”

Ella perked up a bit at the question, glanced at Azrael, and shrugged. “I was in a bad car accident as a kid. Our friendly-” she gave Azrael a look and held up her hands for double quotations “-  _ ghost _ over here has been visible to me ever since.”

“Yeah…” said Azrael. “About that. I might have one more confession to make…”

Ella checked with the nurses that Lucifer could have a cup of coffee before Azrael began explaining how she befriended Ella and eventually convinced her to move to L.A., knowing she’d cross paths with Lucifer if she did so.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to play a major role in your lives, since Ella had asked me to leave her be, understandably, and well...I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Luci, so uh...surprise? I friendshipped you?” Azrael shrugged. “Sorry not sorry?”

Ella only shrugged. “It  _ did _ work out, so I guess I'm not mad. But you could've clued me in on the fact that I wasn't insane for being able to see you sooner.  _ So _ not cool.”

“Yeah,” Azrael admitted. “It's not like my brother announces his non-humanity with  _ flawless success _ or anything.”

Ella made a face. “Fair point.”

Lucifer's nerves had settled since waking up from his oddly stressful dream, allowing him to finally relax against his pillows and lick traces of icing from his fingers. Without prompting, or even taking her attention off Azrael, Ella held her own donut in her mouth and offered him the box again.

He'd have a proper breakfast when he got home.

Suddenly remembering the company waiting his penthouse, Lucifer hesitantly decided to check on his guest.

_...Dad? _

_ Samael? _ floated back into his mind instantly, and Lucifer tried to ignore the fissure of anxiety that dissipated as a result.

He took a steadying breath, and a bite of donut, before responding.

_ Morning. _

* * *

It nearly noon by the time Samael shuffled out of the elevator. His father instantly noticed the strain and fatigue in his posture, and realized his son's light had dimmed again.

His worry was so instantaneous that he forgot to ask Samael to accept his help before giving it. His wings extended on reflex, the nearest one gently wrapping around Samael's shoulders as God fed light through them.

“Samael, what happened?” he asked. “You shouldn't be using your light but you also shouldn't be having issues  _ replenishing _ it.”

To God's surprise, Samael leaned into his wing, his unfocused eyes drooping.

“Weird dream. Lots of humans to deal with. I'm  _ terribly _ tired but I'd rather not sleep if it's all the same to you,” Samael murmured.

Chloe sighed. “He started getting loopy about an hour ago but he insisted on finishing his statement. That said, he freaked out four different people by telling them things from their past? Well. The first three were that. The last one he called unjust and threatened to send his ‘tied favorite brother’ down once they ‘were on speaking terms again’ and Lucifer knew ‘whether he still gives a damn or not.’”

God managed a small smile despite his concern for his son. “Michael may have been quite pleased to be summoned by you under those circumstances, Samael. It wouldn't be the first time you sensed a human's true nature and teamed up with one of your siblings.”

He gently guided Samael to the couch and helped him lay down, keeping a wing laid over him. His son was, unsurprisingly, too out of it to respond to his gentle teasing.

“What sort of dream are you so adamantly against having again?” God asked. “You need to rest.”

Samael's broken chuckles sounded warbled due to his fatigue and just a tad unhinged. “ _ The _ dreams, Dad!” he whispered. “They're back again, bloody things. I think all my old powers are returning and I'm not sure I want them, so if it's your doing, please stop.”

God frowned. “I didn't take them away. Just as I didn't take your brother's wings or your ‘devil face’. Though I'd be happy to rid you of those scars if you wished…” 

He watched Samael start to relax under his wing, even though light was no longer being fed into him, and realized how desperately his son needed to sleep. “I'll do my best to keep all of your dreams at bay, if you wish.”

Samael's eyes were unfocused but hopeful when he peeled them open long enough to meet his gaze.

“Would you?” he asked. “I don't...want to see them anymore.”

Chloe quietly walked to the other sofa, worry pinching her features as God asked, “See who, Little Star?”

Samael's eyes closed as his lips twitched into a frown. Even then, he seemed too tired to be sad properly.

“Any of you,” he murmured. “From before everything. When they still cared…” his lips trembled for a moment. “When Mum didn't.”

God instantly understood. “They still love you, Samael, as do I. We never stopped...as for your mother...what all did you see?”

He managed a small shrug. “No...firsthand. Just….Jophie and Azzie at the ‘servatory… I promised Jophie I'd hurt anyone who hurt her…”

God hummed, his smile fond as he ran his fingers through Samael's hair. “I recall a little angel keeping that promise despite the consequences for doing so.”

Samael shook his head. “Didn't keep m’word,” he mumbled. “Mum’s free an’ s’my fault.”

“Your mother is somewhere so far away that she can never hurt my children again,” God said, his tone gentle but not lacking conviction. “She may be stronger than her children, but she isn't stronger than me. Why do you think she had to manipulate her most powerful son just to deal any sort of blow to me? I'd say you've protected all of your siblings just fine and more than fulfilled your eons old promise to Jophiel.” God thought for a moment. “Although I'm rather confused as to why you're holding yourself to a promise you made to your  _ older  _ sister when you were  _ two _ because she was fighting with Amenadiel and you weren't standing for it. She even said it was  _ her _ job to protect  _ you _ , not the other way around.”

Samael grunted indignantly. “Don't need it.”

God snorted. “Her protection? But you think she needs  _ yours? _ Are you sure you're thinking of the right sister? You do have quite a few elder ones.”

Samael managed to briefly glare at him, but his lips twitched for a moment.

“Jophiel’s only concern was keeping you younger ones from bearing the brunt of your mother's emotional instability,” God continued, no longer teasing. “She handled her own as best as I could expect her to, but she also jumped in and made sure your mother focused on her whenever she could spare one of her little siblings. It's part of where she gained her strength and it certainly fine-tuned her ability to corral a bunch of little angels -  _ including _ the willful one.”

Samael exhaled heavily and managed to nod, but the last of his energy seemed to be leaving him.

“Go to sleep, Little Star,” God soothed. “I'll keep your dreams at bay.”

It only took a moment for Samael to drift, and another for God to will the space around Samael silent, sound blocking, so he and the detective could speak without disturbing him.

“Is he gonna be okay?” she asked after he assured her Samael couldn't hear them.

“I believe so,” said God. “He's been tremendously resilient his entire life. He survived the fall. Picked himself back up. And his base personality wasn't damaged much by it.”

Chloe frowned, but nodded. “It's just...the only other time he's ever been close to this degree of untethered was when his brother died.”

God sighed with tired resignation. “Uriel, yes… Samael wouldn't have taken that so hard if his brother hadn't forced him to deal the blow.”

Chloe had been looking at Lucifer, but her eyes snapped up to God in shock. “Lucifer  _ killed _ his  _ brother?” _

God shrugged. “Uriel forced his hand and refused to obey all summons to return home. It was when his mother's spirit inhabited Charlotte Richards. Uriel, who received much of his mother's crueler attentions, decided to take her punishment into his own hands once she escaped hell. Amenadiel and Samael had already been tricked into giving their mother the benefit of the doubt, and Uriel would've been far too weak to face them had their powers not been self-stunted.

“Uriel used your safety to try and manipulate Samael. He was the master of patterns, able to manipulate events long before they happen. You humans call it the Butterfly Effect. Uriel plays a piano key in an old church one evening, three days later you and your daughter would've died in either a severe car accident or an attempted robbery.”

Chloe exhaled in disbelief. “Lucifer...killed his brother for  _ me?” _ she repeated. “But I'm just another random human.”

God stood, since Samael was deeply asleep, and replaced his wing with a nearby throw blanket before tucking the appendages away. Then he gave Chloe a wry smile.

“You really don't know how much you mean to my son, do you?” he said. “Angels aren't like humans. They grow up surrounded by family. Romantic interests are a direct result of humanity's existence. Even then, this particular son of mine only ever had passing friendships with humans before you. And dating, well, only three of my children have ever gotten close enough to humans to love them in any fashion. My daughter Azrael shares an intricate, sisterly bond with your friend Ella. My son Michael fell for a human woman a few decades ago. Samael is the third. There are many humans he's grown to care about, you in particular.”

A light blush stained her cheeks. “Well. We’re partners.”

God didn't bother pointing out that they both knew her words were a significant understatement.

“He'll bounce back,” said God. “He always does.”

Chloe nodded, mostly to herself as her thoughts churned. “I think he scheduled a therapy appointment earlier. I'll call Linda to see how long he has to sleep or if he needs to reschedule.”

God shot her a grateful look. “If she'd be willing to come here if necessary, I'd be in her debt. I'm certain Samael had much he wished to discuss with her if he made an appointment for today.”

Chloe dialed Linda as she stepped out onto the balcony, wondering how her ‘tribemate’ would react to being in God's debt.

* * *

Thanks to the brief summary Chloe gave Linda while Lucifer was in the hospital, the good doctor was hardly surprised to learn that Lucifer had exhausted himself.

“I'll be over this evening,” she promised. “Want me to grab some takeout? The Devil likes orange chicken so I can only assume God does.”

The elevator dinged, announcing her presence a moment before the inviting scent of Chinese takeout could. Linda was glad for the myriad of distractions. It gave her a chance to analyze the situation.

Lucifer didn't look as of he’d been awake long, and despite his...deflated appearance, he was stiff. His usual mask wasn't quite in place, but he did his damndest to smile at her like nothing was wrong.

Chloe, as expected, was keeping her anxiety locked up as tightly as she could manage. Linda wondered how she was juggling the truth about her partner and whatever additional drama had unfolded in Lucifer's life. Better than expected, by the looks of things.

The one thing Linda didn't expect was God to be such an open book. Or for his resemblance to his son to be quite so striking.

“Well, that explains a lot,” she muttered to herself. 

The bags of takeaway were given a new home at the bar as she tried to wrap her head around the picture before her.

Lucifer stood gingerly, a stark contrast to his usual fluid bravado, and made his way to her. She wasn't sure if he looked more fragile because of his gait or because of the throw wrapped around his shoulders.

“Alright, Doctor?” he asked.

She nodded, sliding a box of orange chicken and a pair of chopsticks towards him. “Just... adjusting. I just assumed, given Amenadiel, that none of you resemble your parents.”

“Samael is unique,” chimed God from the sofa. “A few of my daughters share a characteristic or two of mine, but my son is the only one of his siblings to directly favor myself or my ex-wife.”

Linda nodded slowly, staring at the wall behind the bar. “And...that explains more.”

“Explains what?” Lucifer asked. His box of chicken was opened, but he was fishing through the bags.

She slid him a package of egg rolls and some duck sauce as he found a container of rice.

“It brings a few of your mannerisms into perspective. Among...other things,” she said, hesitating to say too much aloud. Though, when she thought about it, she'd be surprised if God didn't already know her concerns.

“I do.”

She closed her eyes for a second, getting a firm grip on her bearings.

“I'm actually glad you don't trust me despite my son's...gradual contentedness with my presence,” God continued. “It's much different seeing his friends looking out for him from this perspective. Though I'm hardly surprised he's surrounded himself with those keen on thinking for themselves.”

Staring at the bartop, Linda said, “I've gone up against the divine before and I'm the Devil's therapist. As long as you're not here against  _ his _ will, I'm satisfied. Otherwise, I don't care who the hell you are. Lucifer is my patient but he's also my friend.”

“A friend you promised never to risk your life for again,” Lucifer said quickly. “I appreciate the sentiment but he's not here to torment me. Shocking, I know, yes. But there have been a few...major revelations about certain...scenarios from my past.”

The way he said it, the reluctance and visible shame, made Linda soften. “You haven't told me all the details of your fall. At least, not what led up to it.”

Lucifer nodded, but wouldn't meet her gaze and picked lazily at his chicken. “Yes, well, as it turns out, my mother…”

Linda eyed him patiently, ignoring the quiet pang of panic at the mention of  _ Goddess _ . Her heart ached with the thought of what sort of damage that woman could've wrought to her own children.

“My mother…” Lucifer tried, once again faltering. Linda pretended not to notice the tears building in his eyes. “... _ Lied _ ,” he finally managed. “About...a great deal of things. And... _ hurt _ some of my siblings, and-”

“Told Samael that I would've killed him had she not ‘convinced me to send him to hell instead’,” God said gently. 

Linda wished she could be surprised. Instead, she was merely worried about her friend's mental fortitude.

“Lucifer,” she said carefully. “Did she ever hurt  _ you? _ ”

He shook his head slowly. “Not...directly. Unless I was too young to remember.”

“There's a stomach-turning thought,” God muttered, perching himself against the edge of the couch.

Linda took her gaze from Lucifer to quickly analyze his father. There was a lot of worry written all over his face. And pain. But not unlike his son, there was a baseline of anger under it all. Anger she hoped either stemmed from concern for his children or was aimed at his ex-wife.

“So what  _ did _ happen?” Linda asked.

“A massive, foolish misunderstanding,” God answered roughly. “It's a story better absorbed when your mind isn't plagued by hunger, Dr. Martin.”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed. “Please, get settled, my dear. This may take a bit.”

Linda brought the rest of the food to the coffee table and offered Chloe a smile as she joined her on the smaller couch.

“How are you taking this all in?” she asked. “My brain went to mush for about a week.”

Chloe shrugged as she opened her food container. “Haven't had the time for a brain melt and Lucifer was really hurt so I think I adapted on autopilot.”

The pair glanced towards the bar where their subdued friend remained, sometimes eating but mostly moving his food around with his chopsticks. 

“He's taking some of this really poorly,” Chloe said quietly. “I'm worried about him.”

Linda leaned into Chloe's side for a few beats of tribe solidarity before offering her friend a slight smile. “That's why we're here. To be here for him and help him get through this.”

Chloe nodded with more of her usual conviction and started to relax into the couch. 

Linda spent most of the meal quietly watching Lucifer and his father. The former eventually shook himself out of the triggering headspace he'd fallen into, though his demeanor remained subdued compared to normal.

It was quite telling how they pair interacted. Lucifer seemed to be clinging to what aspects of his usual demeanor her could while simultaneously trying to make himself as small as possible. God, on the other hand, was being cautious around his son, and seemed to be over-offering choice while talking with Lucifer. He was blatantly walking on eggshells, but that fact gave Linda some hope.

She knew Lucifer's adolescence had been interrupted. She knew he trusted authority figures about as far as a breeze could push them. But finding the crux of his fallout with his father, mending their relationship, and possibly reconnecting with the rest of his family? She couldn't imagine how that would change him. Not without more understanding of the relationships involved, but she could hope.

And she could try to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking next chapter Linda plays mediator for a long overdue, thorough discussion between father and son - yeah? I have an idea for where I want this to go, but I'm not 100% sure how I'm getting them from here to there. So I'm just gonna be keep going with what's flowing for now. 
> 
> :) Thanks for all the support/kudos/etc. I haven't had plain fun with a fic in a long time, and this is helping fill the void between seasons.  
> (Season 4 is NEXT MONTH though, who else is excited and afraid for the whole Eve thing? I'm worried about where they're gonna take it, personally but I hope they do better than I fear.)


	4. Mending Torn Seams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linda gets caught up to speed. Lucifer absorbs his father's views on the bulk of what's happened between them. God realizes just how alone his favorite son has been. Lucifer struggles to grasp aspects of the full story

Chloe frowned at her phone and sighed to herself, gaining Lucifer's attention.

“Something the matter, Detective?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just wondering though…” she turned to meet his gaze, trying to keep her expression as warm as possible. “Do you need me to stay for this? Dan's asking if I'm getting Trixie tonight, but if you need me to stay, I will.”

Lucifer's expression remained passive, but Chloe could see the panic that flared in his eyes. He cleared his throat before answering.

“I think,” he managed, his voice unsteady, “that it may be beneficial to, shall we say, carry this burden on my own. For a while at least. Not that I don't  _ want _ you to stay, of course…”

She gave him a bittersweet smile. “Band-aid method?”

He shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I'm gonna go get Trixie. But call me if you need anything, alright? Even if it's just to...talk through things or whatever.”

He nodded and tried to smile. “You have my word.”

Linda saw through his brave front, but decided he may be partly right. It might benefit him to confront his family issues on the same terms he'd been forced to confront his ‘punishment’ - alone. Or at least, without the full safety net of his support system.

Chloe left a few minutes later after hugging both Linda and Lucifer. The latter of whom steeled himself once the elevator doors closed.

Linda offered him a kind smile. “Shall we clean up a bit first? I normally wouldn't recommend this, but maybe a drink is in order?”

Lucifer nodded numbly before he started picking up leftovers and trash.

Linda sat back and let him have his moment of stalling once it became clear how meticulous he was being about little details - like refolding the takeout container lids just so and organizing extra packets of chopsticks behind the counter.

God, on the other hand, lacked any mundane tasks to hide his feelings behind, allowing Linda to analyze him with ease. Though psychoanalyzing God while he psychoanalyzed his son was more than a little ironic in her opinion.

“You two were quite close,” she observed, an educated guess based on how deeply Lucifer's issues with his father were rooted, and a plethora of other things.

Lucifer shrugged from behind the bar and God, without taking his eyes away from his son, was the one to give her a reply she could work with. “I, admittedly, have never had a closer bond with one of my children. Most of his siblings were equally attached to myself and their mother, and formed tighter bonds amongst their chosen favorite siblings. Samael was the first to favor a parent before building his cluster of siblings.”

Linda's expression softened at the notes of pride and wistfulness in God's voice. “And how old were you, Lucifer, when your bond with your father  _ really _ started?”

She expected him to mumble an answer, begrudgingly joining the conversation, but he just stared at the bartop with a pinched expression. A few moments of tense silence hovered between the three before God quietly chimed in again.

“It started before he was born,” he said softly. “My children aren't human, though they're similar enough where it matters for the sake of human understanding. A major difference between the two is that celestial children can sometimes retain...impressions or weak memories of their life en utero. Mostly emotions from what I understand…” he trailed off.

Linda blinked. “So, just like human babies can favor the sound of a voice they hear often while in the womb and react to it…”

God nodded. “Samael could sense my light before he was born, knew my voice, and if he was awake he'd always respond to, say, my hand on my wife's stomach. Press a hand or foot against mine if he could reach. Or just press his head into my palm. And after he was born, it was much the same. Azazel was more inclined towards their mother, but their bond wasn't half as strong as ours, honestly.”

A few puzzle pieces started fitting together in Linda's mind. “That explains a bit of the ‘favorite son’ stuff I've heard between him and Amenadiel.”

God's expression was more than a little guilty. “I never intended for any of my children to feel lesser and Samael never really had a complex growing up, either. I fear that bitter competitiveness is a result of their mother’s influence. My and Samael’s personalities went well together. I love him just as much as I love my other children.”

Linda shrugged. “As harsh as it may sound, you're allowed to  _ like _ some of your children better than others. The way personalities work makes it tricky not to. I've met plenty of parents who've -reluctantly- admitted to disliking their children's personalities at times. Either while they were growing up or once they became adults. So...as long as you're not an intentionally abusive dick about it, your feelings are pretty normal.”

She glanced towards Lucifer. “And in that close-knit of a family dynamic, it would also be expected for a damaged sense of trust to form if there was a major misunderstanding of  some kind that put pressure on such an intimate bond.”

Lucifer remained closed off. If she couldn’t tell he was listening, and likely just processing something unpleasant on his own for the moment, she would’ve pushed him. Her gut told her he needed a minute, though.

God sighed to himself and spoke up again. “If anyone could be considered at fault, I take the blame. I’ve already explained some of this to Samael, but around the time Gabriel was born, my wife began to change for the worse. I thought it was a side effect of birth and pregnancy, and suggested we hold off on having more children. Despite her...less than positive behavior, my wife convinced me that having more children would make her happier again, so we had more. For a little while, as long as she was pregnant, she was mostly herself. Post-birth, she’d transform into a hateful, short tempered, conniving woman I didn’t recognize…” God took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, eons of guilt and fatigue weighing on his shoulders. “I learned, shortly before Samael was born, that these bouts of uncharacteristic behavior had actually started much earlier than originally suspected, but her occasional verbal cruelty towards our children started with my eldest daughter - Jophiel.

“As I said earlier, Samael is the only of his siblings to  _ truly _ favor one of his parents, but Jophiel was the first of my children to share my hair and eye color. Celestial genetics aren’t nearly as predictable as human ones, as you might have guessed since you seem to know my eldest son. She hid it at the time, but I believe my wife was bitter, jealous, that our first daughter didn’t favor her. She was rarely harsh towards our eldest boys, but when I wasn’t around, she was neglectful or outright cruel to Jophie as she got older… Jophiel didn’t work up the courage to confide in me until Samael and Azrael were born. She’d worked out that her mother was harsher on the siblings who shared even a minute characteristic with myself, or developed gifts I was especially proud of. Samael not only looked just like me, but his light has always been the brightest of all my offspring. Jophiel adored him from day one and despite fearing that I already knew, and simply didn’t care, she risked my indifference to tell me the truth… Omnipotence is an interesting thing, Dr. Martin. If I don’t peer through time with a keen eye, I can overlook things. So, say I wish to check on my children’s safety and happiness. If I’m not specifically looking for them  _ in that exact moment _ , I’ll likely just see something that gives me a general sense of how they’re doing that day. So  _ Is Jophiel safe? _ Might show me an image of her playing with her siblings... _ after _ she’s already been tormented somehow by her mother. In the early days, I didn’t know this weakness in foresight existed. So I never foresaw my wife’s cruelty. Not until I knew to look for it...and then I started to discreetly protect my children.”

Linda pursed her lips in thought. “Why not separate properly? Surely you wanted to alert the rest of your children so you knew how far her reach went?”

God shrugged, still shamefaced. “She was with child again and I blamed it on the toll pregnancy often took on her body. Even with my abilities, I could offer her little relief through the worst of her symptoms. She was my wife, the mother of my children. I forgave her, to an extent. Enough that I didn’t want to ruin how anymore of her children saw her.”

Linda nodded. “Again, a completely understandable response. It likely felt reasonable, especially since you knew how to better look out for your children going forward. You had no reason to consider that decision unsafe at the time. Hindsight, however...”

He gave her a brittle smile. “Hindsight indeed… As it happens, she did a bit better for a time after Samael was born, according to Jophiel. His twin, Azazel, was absolutely smitten with his mother from the moment they were born and stuck to her the way Samael stuck to me. For a time, things seemed normal, better even. We still waited until Samael and Azrael were about a millennia old before having more children, but all seemed well. Samael started to make his first balls of light, sprouted his wings earlier than any of my children ever had… He even managed to help his mother’s suffering. He can replicate the light of others and give it a touchable, physical shape. I believe you humans have something similar called mood jewelry? It prevented his mother from suffering in silence or getting used to her own pain. She turned the two balls of light into earrings. Myself or Raphael could heal or ease her discomforts before she even realized they were creeping up again… It was a  _ blessing _ .” God’s lips twitched into a sad smile for a moment. “A blessing from a  _ toddler _ .”

Linda allowed herself to digest that information for a few moments. It was easy for her to dissociate Lucifer from the biblical  _ Lucifer _ , since she knew most of the bible was inaccurate anyway. But even though he mentioned his Light Bringer status in the past, it hadn’t really  _ clicked. _

She tried to shake the amazed fuzz from her head. 

“So,” said Linda “let's switch to the other half of this narrative for a second.” She glanced towards the bar. “Lucifer? I assume you would've spoken up if you felt any part of this story so far was untrue?”

His head bobbed absently. “All true, Doctor.”

She continued her gentle prodding. “How about I ask you a few things then? Let's start with why you've never mentioned your twin - who I assume is fraternal.”

“He was,” Lucifer answered. “He led the rebel forces I was given all the credit for. I'm not sure what happened to him exactly. I haven't seen him since I fell and we were never close.”

Linda noticed God's expression had changed a moment before he spoke.

“I mentioned, Samael, that I realized most of what truly happened as you fell… I think the realization was written all over my face, or perhaps your sister had a moment of foresight as well…” he exhaled bitterly. “Jophiel wound up with the dismantled flaming sword. Azazel wasn't half as clever of a fighter as he thought himself to be. Not in the face of a protective older sister, at any rate.”

Lucifer stared at his father, his face blank but his eyes just beginning to burn.

God tried to give his son an encouraging smile. “He baited her, you know. Tried to convince her I'd cast her out too if she killed him. She told him she was following you down anyway. I had to explain an awful lot to her so she wouldn't, since that wouldn't have led you to where you're headed now. She hasn't been very happy with me since, but she wanted you to find your happiness as well…”

Lucifer finally blinked and swallowed tightly. “Does she still have tea on Sundays?” he asked quietly. 

The smallness of his voice made Linda frown. The question itself did the same to God.

“She does not,” he said slowly. “Nor would she answer my summons if I tried to call her down. She's nearly as stubborn as you are, Samael, and she told me years ago that if I wanted her to see you again, I'd show you the way back home.”

“I don't want to go back to Heaven,” Lucifer said. “Not permanently.  _ This _ is my home now.” He gestured to the penthouse around them.

“I've told her,” God said. “She understands. I think she knows you'll be averse to the idea for a multitude of reasons. She may be trying to give you a positive to balance out the scales.”

Lucifer frowned. “I'll think about it.”

God nodded. “That's all I ask. Your sister is the demanding one.”

“You and Jophiel sound close,” Linda prodded gently. “Why?”

To her surprise, Lucifer actually looked a bit embarrassed. “She's my eldest sister,” he said, as if that explained everything. 

God caught Linda's gaze and chuckled. “Jophiel's position used to be as one of the muses. She has the gift of knowing music before she's heard it all. She's the strongest singer of family, except for maybe Samael, among other things. Like her nurturing and loving nature. She was always so helpful with her younger siblings, but she formed the closest bonds with a small handful. Samael's cluster, essentially.”

“And who else was part of this little...clique, so to speak?” Linda asked. “And why? Lucifer - you've always referred to your brothers and sisters in bulk, meaning  _ all _ of them. You've rarely mentioned any by name, except Amenadiel and Uriel.”

“Amenadiel, Michael, Raphael, Jophiel, Gabriel, and Azrael,” Lucifer said. He shrugged noncommittally. “One of my youngest sisters had started to imprint on me before the fall, but she was two at the time. I'm sure she doesn't remember me now.”

“Yes she does,” said God. “Again, you would need to visit home to see her. She flies fine for her age, but not nearly as often or for as long of distances as many of you lot had and she's always been on the tiny side. I'd have to bring her down here and she hates flying along as much as you ever did.”

Lucifer's discomfort came back full force. “Why on  _ Earth _ does she remember me?”

God shrugged. “She has her own faint memories and her favorite elder siblings have told her every story of you they could think of when she asked. Her powers are also coming in quite well, if you were wondering.”

“Does she still favor the arts?” Lucifer asked.

God gave him a gently pointed look. “She'd be very happy if you discovered that information for yourself.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Naturally only one of my dear sisters decides to make things easy on me.”

When he saw Linda's patiently expectant expression, he added, “Azrael visited me in the hospital this morning.”

Linda smiled brightly. “That's  _ good _ , Lucifer! Even small measures that start to mend things between you and your celestial family are important. Especially if you  _ do _ take a vacation to visit home. Is celestial dual citizenship a thing?”

“If they so wish it,” God answered. “Only one other son has put down roots here, so far.” He met Lucifer’s gaze. “Michael.”

“What the me for?” Lucifer asked.

“He met someone,” God said simply. “You have a sister-in-law. And that’s all your brother would be comfortable with me sharing. Though there’s much he’d wish to tell you himself.”

Lucifer mulled over that information for a moment. “Where do they live?” he asked.

“Closer than you'd think,” God answered cryptically. “In part to be nearer to you, yes. Some of your siblings were a few years or decades away from reconnecting with you on their own before this Cain business.”

Again, Linda noted how several seemingly mild statements of fact from God seemed to knock Lucifer completely off kilter. 

"The...trials I've faced with Cain's arrival…" Lucifer began. "You didn't expect them?"

God sighed heavily and put his head in his hands as he groaned. "Had I realized  _ just _ how negatively your impression of my feelings towards you would be damaged, Samael, I hope I might've done something sooner to fix it…" He gave his son a sorrow-filled stare. "Cain would've crossed your path eventually, yes, but under much different circumstances and years from now. That said...I think the good doctor here was onto something when she suggested drinks."

Lucifer nodded blankly, lost deep in his thoughts once more as he turned around to pour three drinks. He guessed a rum and coke for Linda, which she confirmed. Lucifer's forethought on her wanting something sippable and milder to the scotch he poured for himself and his father seemed like another small, but good indicator of how he was coping.

"So, " she began, giving Lucifer an approving, encouraging smile when he sat on the opposite end of the couch his father was on. "You've both mentioned how there was a lot of…-let's call it  _ drama _ \- surrounding Lucifer's fall."

"Yes," said God. "My ex-wife orchestrated the entire thing with the help of Samael's twin. She made comments that caused Samael to question my judgment, motives, etc., while also expressing 'concerns' to me about his growing instability and temper. Both sides of the story were enforced when Samael began to question me on things and we'd argue - me trying to prevent and correct dangerous habits in my son, and Samael thinking his entire life, his autonomy, was a well-disguised lie."

Linda winced in sympathy. "Ouch. The two of you argued a lot then, before the fall?"

"Quite," Lucifer muttered, staring out the balcony windows. "It built up for about a millennia. We grew apart. Dad tried, I think, to mend things a bit before my birthday but by then I thought the version of him I grew up with was a falsehood. I saw it all as more manipulations. We bickered,  _ loudly _ , where most of the family could hear. I declared my intentions to leave, and as I began to explain I wasn't leaving without my belongings, some of my siblings started to rally."

Despite his gaze remaining outside, Linda gave Lucifer her full attention. So far, this was the most he'd spoken in her presence. She hoped he didn't tighten back up and shut down after working through this part of his history.

"You didn't organize them," she said. "I know you didn't, Lucifer. I presume Azazel did."

God chuckled dryly and sipped his scotch. "I mean you no offense, Doctor, but you know my son a fraction as well as I do yet you reached that conclusion with conviction…  _ I _ should have known it wasn't Samael. But I was angry. Hurt. The uprising was just the cherry on top of a series of perceived betrayals I didn't understand. There was a lot of fighting after that, of course. I refused to lay a hand on my children, but they'd done so to each other in the past - even angels play rough. Samael ended up against Amenadiel and Michael. He knocked them both unconscious. Unbeknownst to me, he hadn't won that fight unscathed. One of his wings was broken…"

Linda was nearly choking on the tension in the room. What surprised her was the source. There wasn't any animosity aimed between the pair across from her, rather they both seemed to be suffering from levels of self-loathing, regret, and guilt that was too heavy for her to comprehend.

She was surprised to note that God was in a worse shape than Lucifer. 

"I didn't know his wing was broken until he was already falling."

A beat of heavy silence passed before a chill ran down Linda’s spine and the words sunk in fully. Her eyes immediately moved towards Lucifer. She expected more of a reaction out of him than the muscle that twitched in his jaw, but then she supposed this information may not be new to him.

“So he... _ fell _ ,” she said carefully, acutely aware of how fragile the men before her were emotionally. She hesitated over the types of questions she wanted to prod them with, both afraid of the answers and afraid of the reactions to said answers.

“I didn’t want to let him fall,” God said. “I’ve told him this already. When I realized his wing was broken I also immediately saw new paths form in his future. On one path in particular, his happiness in life knew no bounds. He would have to suffer along the way, but he would be happy in the end. I decided that was more important than what I wanted - which was to fly down, catch him, bring him home, and fix what my wife destroyed between us… Even if that meant Samael hated me for eternity.”

Linda took a few deep breaths, her heart pounding. She ached for them both, but especially for Lucifer. All this time he’d spent believing he’d been abandoned on purpose when really...it had been more complicated than either of them imagined his issues would be.

“How...long,” she said quietly. “How long has it been since the two of you have spoken properly, before Lucifer and Chloe were attacked.”

Lucifer exhaled shortly through his nose. God was silent.

“I know millennia don’t mean the same things to humans,” she continued.

“It’s sort of synonymous with  _ year _ ,” Lucifer said. “A millennium is a rough equivalent to the amount of time that passes in a single Heaven-year. A two millennia old angel looks about the same as a human two year old.”

“You were made in our image,” God muttered. “To an extent. There are many similarities.”

Linda nodded. “Right. So. How old were you, Lucifer, when you fell and how old are you now?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Time in hell isn’t the same as in Heaven and both exist on a slower setting than this realm does. I never bothered attempting to count.”

“You’re twenty-nine,” God said quietly. “He was almost sixteen.”

Linda inhaled sharply, but tried to keep her shock from showing beyond that gut-reaction. 

Lucifer’s score of bitter  _ teenage rebellion _ comments made  _ so _ much more sense now. His literal celestial adolescence had been cut in half, he was forced out of his home, cut off from everyone he’d ever known, and…

She pinched the upper part of her nose, mostly to counter the pressure building around her eyes. “Oh hell,” she muttered. “That...just put a whole lot of stuff into perspective.”

His insecurities, his cluelessness and anxiety where Chloe is concerned. His almost childlike black and white view of the world with situational smatterings of gray where needed. His bitterness about his historic legacy, yet simultaneous attachment to his ‘Devil Side’. The self-mutilation with his wings, but also keeping them. 

Facts and understanding slid around in her head like a never-ending stream of jigsaw pieces.

“Lucifer,” she said carefully. “I need you to answer this next question seriously...and I want you to think about it for a moment, because your gut response may not be the  _ truest _ response.”

He finally turned away from the window and frowned at her. “Alright.”

She blinked a few times, breathing slowly to stave off tears. “How are you taking all of this? How are you  _ coping?” _

He looked away again. “I… I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I said as much to my sister this morning. I was  _ so angry _ before, and for a long time that was all I felt towards any of them but now?”

She blinked hard once or twice when his voice began to break on the words.

“ _ Now _ ,” he continued, his agitation clear as he stood and began to pace from the far side of the piano to the balcony doors and back. “My mother  _ hurt _ and tormented my siblings. She manipulated me against my father, she made  _ me _ take the fall for her rebellion, she  _ broke my stars!  _ Dad dropped me, Michael broke my wing, they  _ all _ let me fall and  _ not once _ did  _ any of them visit _ or, or, or send a bloody  _ birthday card! _ But Jophie would’ve followed me down?! And bloody  _ Sariel _ remembers me? Has asked to hear stories of me? Michael lives vaguely nearby? Azrael’s so blatantly repentant about it all that I can’t bloody well stay mad at her, can I? Amenadiel I’ve seen more than I’d have liked and for mostly the wrong reasons but aside from trying to get me back to hell he treated me mostly the same… I just…”

Lucifer all but collapsed onto the piano bench and put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. 

He said something so quietly that Linda didn’t catch it, but God’s expression, his sudden stiffness, and the tears in his eyes told her he had heard his son just fine.

“Sammy,” he began, his voice choked and he rounded the couch. “Sammy, Sammy, my Samael, you can have your family back and you can do so without sacrificing the families you’ve built for yourself here  _ or _ in Hell. If you want to have tea with Jophiel on Sunday morning and dinner with Chloe that evening, you may, my Little Star. The barriers you’ve assumed were in place never existed. You may come home whenever you wish for as long as you wish. Just please let me explain everything to the rest of your siblings first so there's no more fighting.”

Linda looked away, trying to discreetly wipe her eyes in the process. All that time spent alone with nothing but lies and misunderstandings to base his perception of reality around. No wonder he found so much purpose working with Chloe.

When she finally regained a firm grip on her empathy and emotions, Linda found father and son slowly exiting a long-overdue embrace. They were both a little shaken, more than a little broken, but clearly in dire need of mending the ghost of relationship she could still see.

For some reason, the nickname  _ Little Star _ kept repeating in her mind.

Then it clicked.

“Hold on a second,” she said aloud, mostly to herself. “Little Star. Light Brighter aka the literal maker of stars…” She glanced at Lucifer, who seemed tired, twice his age, and resigned to something. “ _ Twinkle Twinkle _ is about  _ you _ , isn’t it?” she asked.

Lucifer glared up at his father, who wore a small, fond smile still slightly tinged with sadness. 

“It is,” God confirmed. “My brightest angel. My maker of stars. The original quote was actually the tail end of a motivational speech to cheer up a stressing cherub, but my exact words were  _ Samael, let there be light. _ I didn’t make the stars. At most I made some dust that became stars via my son.”

“You made the universe together?” she guessed. They both nodded. “Wow. Okay, that makes my homework for you a little easier then.”

They both stared at her expectantly. 

“There are two things that I think will help mend the broken bond between you two,” she began. “First, find something here, on Earth, to do together that you can both appreciate. A new way to bond. That’s to be done before the next session we have like this - and we should probably have a few family sessions. Maybe your other siblings could join in down the road? - but your second bit of homework can be done when you’re both a bit more comfortable with each other again… go make a new star together. Something old and new at the same time that honors time passed and marks a new era of understanding going forward. Sound good?”

God shrugged as Lucifer mulled it over. “I think I have a few ideas for shared experiences down here…”

Linda grimaced. “Please don’t say orgies.”

Lucifer gave her an admonishing look. “ _ Honestly. _ And  _ I’m _ the devil.”

Linda noted and filed God’s adverse but silent reaction to Lucifer’s comment for further reflection.

“Wine tasting,” Lucifer announced, glancing towards his father. “If you’re still interested in doing that of course...and...well, I suppose you haven’t learned to cook since...everything?”

“I have not,” said God. 

Lucifer nodded decisively. “Right.  _ The Great British Baking Show: Masterclass _ bake-a-long marathon it is. And maybe a spa day or...something.”

Linda tried to hide her smile, worrying how Lucifer would react if he knew how his immediate word-vomit of ideas seemed from this angle. Had he fully come to the conclusion that his negative feelings towards his family seemed rooted in his senses of abandonment and loneliness after the fall? Did he even realize how much he clearly missed his father?

Probably not. Not yet at least.

“Is there anything else immediately pressing the pair of you want to get off your chests tonight or shall we plan to do this again in a few days, or a week?” she asked. They’d bitten off a hefty bit of family issues tonight. She dared not risk taking on more than any of them could chew.

“I think maybe we should all retire for the evening, Doctor,” said God. “You can go home and get some rest yourself, and perhaps my son will lounge on the balcony with me for a spell before we retire?”

Lucifer shrugged “I’m bringing the bourbon.”

God smiled. “I insist.”

Linda smiled with them as she stood. “Text me if you need anything, Lucifer.”

He stood as well and hugged her tightly before she collected her purse and he walked her to the elevator.

“Thank you…” he murmured as the doors opened. “I know it’s a lot to digest for us, so it must be for you as well.”

“I’m your friend first, Lucifer,” she said. “Therapist second. I just want you to be happy. If that means wrapping my head around some  _ Jerry Springer _ level celestial family drama bullshit, then I’ll do that. I’m on your team. Always.”

He gave her one of his genuine smiles. The soft, boyish ones that made her remind herself why it was very important that they  _ stopped _ sleeping together. His being semi-unwittingly in love with Chloe being a major, effective mood killer.

“Goodnight, Lucifer. Enjoy your downtime with your father. Take it slow. You’ll be fine,” she said. “I really think you both will.”

He offered her half-smile and a shrug. “Goodnight, Doctor.”

The elevator doors closed. Lucifer dropped his strong front and let the fatigue wash over him. Eons of deflating, misplaced emotions weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He grabbed the bourbon and cinnamon scotch from behind the bar before joining his father outside on the cushioned chairs. He drank. He looked up nearby vineyards on his phone, recognized one who employed someone that owed him a favor, and sent an email to schedule a proper luxury tasting. 

Then he Googled some of his favorite  _ Masterclass _ recipes and made a grocery list. Florentines. Baguettes. Chocolate Mousse Entremets. Tiramisu. 

God watched his son fall asleep before he could type out  _ lemon custard tart _ and  _ cream horns _ .

When Lucifer woke up in his bed sometime later, he was disoriented for a few moments. Dressed, atop the blankets. Not usually how he fell asleep.

Then he heard the echo of the guest room door click shut down the hall.

The last two items he’d been trying to remember before he fell asleep were typed on the list in his phone, which was face up and plugged in on his nightstand.

He stripped down to his boxers, slid under the sheets properly, and slept easy for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for you guys to eventually meet Jophiel. She's probably my favorite of Lucifer's siblings, maybe tied with Sariel.


End file.
